


Wake Up

by Annasunshine77



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Begging, Extremely Dubious Consent, Graphic Description, Implied Murder, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Profanity, Quadrant Confusion, Sober Gamzee Makara, fear fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 15:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21394273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annasunshine77/pseuds/Annasunshine77
Summary: You make it a bit further until you see his tall shadow skirt through the doorway out of the corner of your eye. You lose the tiny composure you were building up and immediately make a run for your door. Your feet pad loudly against the wet floor. Fuck being quiet.You instantly regret that thought when you hear Gamzee’s feral growl and pounding boots coming after you.
Relationships: Gamzee Makara/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 124





	Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> For this fic, Gamzee has lost control and murdered everyone except our favorite little angry troll.

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you fucking hate yourself.

How did it come this? How did you let it come to this? How did no one notice before it got this fucked up?

You slip through the dark hallway, sliding through the cold blood that covers the floor. All sorts of colors mixed together. You’ve fallen about five times so it’s caked along your pants and sweater sleeves. It disgustingly seeps through your socks, the chilling wetness causing bile to rise in your esophagus. You’ve repeatedly had to force it back. The bodies are gone. You don’t want to find them. Don’t want to think of what Gamzee has done to them.

All of your friends. Ripped away, like a newborn from their mother’s longing arms. Gamzee murdered them. And you had no idea until it was too late. Something had felt so wrong. But you failed them. You failed him. And he is saving you for last. He will probably rip your blood pusher from your chest. Bash your thinkpan in. Maybe if you had thought about anyone else besides yourself for once, this wouldn’t have happened. Where were you when he needed you?

You didn’t know, you just didn’t know.

Your respiteblock is all the way at the end of this long corridor. You see the wooden door and a spark of hope ignites in your chest. You feel closer to safety than you have ever been before. You’ve made it this far along this damn, cursed meteor. You can’t wait for the door to close behind you. In safety, you could board your door and clog the vent. Change out of your soiled clothes and maybe, impossibly, hope to forget that you’ve had sticky blood drenched in their material. If you could just make it back there…

“HONK.”

You freeze against the wall, cowering by a closet doorway. It was distant but he’s around, on the hunt for you. Shut your damn panicky breath up and don’t pick your feet up. If you stay crying against this doorway, there’s no doubt he’ll sniff you out. Slide along the sickly blood and fucking move forward.

You make it a bit further until you see his tall shadow skirt through the doorway out of the corner of your eye. You lose the tiny composure you were building and immediately make a run for your door. Your feet pad loudly against the wet floor. Fuck being quiet.

You instantly regret that thought when you hear Gamzee’s feral growl and pounding boots coming after you.

You’re close, so close that you can see the light from your cracked door. He calls after you, and the sound of his rough voice sends another wave of panic. You’re scared to look back and see the brutal killer. You’d see the troll you wanted to save the most.

You wanted so badly to save him from himself.

You scream on instinct when you slip in brown blood and land on your ankle wrong. It feels immediately fucked but you force your body up and hurl yourself towards the door. It slams open beneath you, and you immediately throw it shut and twist the lock. The hot adrenaline coursing through your veins is the only thing that keeps you from breaking down. You rush to push the old, shitty table against the door and pause.

Suddenly, it’s very quiet. You don’t move, waiting to hear any sign of movement from the other side. You hold your erratic breathing in until the handle jangles. “Open the motherfucking door, brother.”

With the wooden wall separating you, the rage, sadness, and pain overflows you like a broken damn.

“What the fuck? How could you, you damn, blithering douchewad?! We trusted you!” The fury lights like a fire around your heart and eyes. It’s blinding, and with your life out of immediate danger the adrenaline drains and you’re hit with exhaustion. Your foot aches with a vengeance that makes you slide against the wall. “Why didn’t you say anything?!” It sounds broken and you can’t stop yourself from pounding your weakened fist against the black wall.

The anger burning through your body freezes to fear as he splinters the woodened door with a club swing. You thought it would at least hold him for a couple of hours while you figured out your next move.

“Wait till’ I get hands on you,” he growls out. “Gonna keep your red all to myself. Got my motherfuckin’ understanding on what I finally deserve with it. Righteous deliverance.”

He’s going to fucking kill you. There is no way out. You look around for anything to give you leverage. Your foot screams with pain when you put any pressure on it. You are cornered and you are going to die at the hands of a psychotic highblood.

“Stop! Fucking leave! Go away!” You hands clench your hair as you force your face into your knees, protecting your eyes from the violent massacre of your door. “Go away. This isn’t happening.”

When the subjugglator can get a hand in, he throws the table violently against the wall and unlocks the knob. The door is thrown open and his guttural growl has you trying to kick yourself into a corner. He immediately pulls you from the floor and throws you against the wall like a ragdoll, causing you to land on your feet. The shooting pain from your aching foot makes an involuntary cry leave your lips. Your arms wrap around your front in a pitiful attempt at protection.

“Think you could hide away from your motherfucking Messiah?” Gamzee towers over you like the sky and his right hand immediately finds your throat. His club is dropped to the floor.

You grasp his wrist when you feel his fingers tighten. “Gamzee, stop,” you try, “you have to stop. Stop!” Instinctively, you raise your other hand to pap his face. “Shoo-”

He immediately wrenches your shaking hand away from his face, bending it back painfully. “No, motherfucker. Try that shit again and I’ll break all your fingers.” He let you yank it back to your chest after you whimper.

You cower beneath him, curled upon yourself, like a human bowing to a raging bear. You feel your chance to see another day slipping away. But suddenly, his fingers loosen the tiniest bit and he’s not making a move to actively hurt you. It seems your obedience is somewhat calming.

“Look at that motherfuckin’ miracle pink,” his eyes won’t leave your cheek and his clawed hand not wrapped around your throat is reaching up to your face. You instinctively squeeze your eyes closed as the pad of his thumb grazes your heated cheek.

“Don’t. Don’t kill me.” Gamzee looks at you like you’re the crazy one, but doesn’t say anything. Your eyes meet his and it’s like finding at a new, unfamiliar sky. His painted face is the same, but he feels so much more aware. Uncharted territory. Something awfully beautiful and terrifying. He leans in, pushing you flush with the wall. A yelp escapes your mouth as he pushes his face in the juncture below your throat, scenting you.

He steps back and his hands slowly lower. You feel like you can finally breathe again until-

“Kneel, my little lowblood troll.” He purposely growls in his voice, an ode to his highblood status.

“Gamzee…” You say softly. “Y-you promised you would never-”

“KNEEL, MOTHERFUCKER.”

“Okay! Shit, I’m going.” You lower you aching body to the ground, carefully shielding your foot from his reach. He notices.

“Quite a mirthful dive you took running from your fate. The motherfucking ankle giving my pale bro some sick noise?”

“Sprained,” you mutter as you look up to his sparkling, darkened eyes.

“Course it is. You all up and tangled yourself in the sacred paint. One of the worst offenses.” Gamzee picks up his club again. “Lucky you’re so motherfucking cute. Anyone else would be torn apart with their acid tubes exposed.” His eyes flash viciously before he yanks you up by your sweater and pushes you towards the couch in your room. You cringe as each step sends stabbing pain up your leg. He wraps his arms around you and pulls your small frame against his as he settles into the abundant pillows you have sprawled along the couch. “My little, perfect mutant.” His words make anxiety spread across your body like wildfire.

“How could you do that? The fucking monstrosity, you grubfucking imbecile.” The words tumble out of your mouth before your self-preservation can kick in. You say them and you can barely recognize your own voice, it sounds so wrecked.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, just pushes his head into your hair and breathes. “In the pan it said so. Motherfuckers got called. They won’t mind.” He pauses. His hand slips in yours. “I’ll never let you go though, Karbro, even if you get named.”

You try your hardest to keep from outwardly sobbing, keeping the tears silently rolling down your cheeks. “That doesn’t make any gogdamn sense, you clown.”

Gamzee grumbles and it vibrates through your body. “Motherfucking tired from sending all those souls and murals to the sky. Let’s get our motherfucking chill on and worry about the wicked world later.”

“How the fuck can you-” You’re about to question how the fuck you’re supposed to “chill” after all the messed up shit he’s done, when his claws dig into your skin and you feel his body tense around you.

“Stop, stop,” you nuzzle back against him and rub his hand until he settles down. “Shhh.” His breathing grows slow and the rigid tension melts from his long body as he releases himself to sleep.

Despite the lovely promise of darkness, you don’t sleep. You don’t know how to anymore.

Instead, you wonder how the fuck this is going to play out. For hours and hours, your brain debates each situation. Gamzee is radically sober and everybody else is fucking dead. This can’t be the rest of your miserable life. There has to be a way to fix this. You just have to live long enough figure it out.

The first thing you think you need to do is find some gogdamn sopor slime.

Your recuperacoon is across the room and if you get to it, you could have a little extra saved. Gamzee’s arms have loosened and you slide off of the couch with a quietness you didn’t know you had.

This is probably a terrible idea but- you immediately lose your balance as you try to put weight on both your feet. Big mistake. You crash to the floor with a jerking yell.

Gamzee is instantly alert and raging. His club is automatically gripped tight in his hands and his face set in a deep frown, like he already assumed the worst of your actions.

“I-I-I was only going to my recuperacoon to get you some sopor,” you try to explain quickly, holding your hands up in surrender.

“The picture don’t lie, brother.” He points to the short distance between you and the doorway, like that means anything.

“That’s cause I fucking fell, you nookhumping bastard!”

He raises his club. “Give me your leg, motherfucker. I know how to help a motherfucker stay in his place, and it seems you need help.” His eyes are brutal and wide.

Oh no.

OH NO. OH NO- This can’t be happening. Why the fuck did you have to screw yourself every hour of the day?

You shake your head, subconsciously pulling your legs tighter to yourself. “Gamzee, no c’mon-”

A smile twists cruelly over his lips. “Give me your motherfuckin’ leg, Karkat.” Holy shit. He said your name straight. This gogdamn clown is going to rip your leg off. “I’ll make it quick, I bitchtits promise.” He’s going to fucking break your already injured foot.

Think! Gotta think of something! He seemed to calm down when you submitted to him. He liked that.

Maybe. Maybe…

Anything to keep yourself breathing and in one piece.

You start crawling towards him, despite every instinct telling you it is certain death. Face bowed and ears flattened, you try to play on your upmost lowblood features.

Your face comes level with the strings hanging from his pajama pants. On your hands and knees before him, you nuzzle your face into his thigh. “Please, Gamzee,” your voice sounds so broken, asking for a mercy that no God has ever grant you before. “I’m sorry, please don’t.” His pajama pants absorb the colored tears leaking past your eyes. “You don’t have to,” you cry. You feel his bulge start to flutter to life.

His club clatters to the floor. “You’re so motherfuckin’ cute, Karbro,” Gamzee mutters, eyes hooded, and hand suddenly plopping in your messy hair. His fingers find your horns and he fondles them the way he knows you like while simultaneously pushing your head towards his active bulge.

You mouth at his bulge beneath his pants, using your tongue to lick long wet stripes along the fabric. A low rumble starts to escape his body. He forcefully grabs and pulls your body back on the couch. Though he is cautious of your tucked foot, he still seems displeased.

“Can I…?” You question before touching his face, remembering his earlier threat.

“Fuck me up.”

You gently grasp his face, running your fingers along the paint. “Shoosh, don’t be mad at me. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me, shoosh,” you pap his cheeks and rub your thumbs under his eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Gam.” His purr rumbles louder and his hips suddenly rub against yours. You've calmed his anger, but a new desire has settled over him.

“Can’t wait to stuff my motherfucking bulge in your tight nook.” Your entire body breaks out in a red flush and you freeze, brain going numb from the desecrating words.

“Are you serious? This will fuck our quadrants,” you slightly pull back to look him in the eyes.

“Mother fuck, it’s what we deserve. Anything for you. You’re mine.” He growls when you take too long to bare your throat. He grabs your sweater and forces it lower so he can have more access.

“Don’t hurt me,” you whimper while exposing your neck to him.

“Love when you’re all pliant and submissive like this- yeah give me your motherfucking neck.” His sharp teeth glaze your skin and you force yourself not to move. “If you’re a mirthful, little cumbucket for your Messiah, I promise I won’t make it hurt at all.”

He pulls away, only to impatiently tug your pants off and slide down his pajamas. His bulge is instantly free and it moves to find yours, which is starting to physically descend. You eye his and it is so thick, you know it is going to hurt stretching your lowblood nook. Highbloods typically destroy lowbloods with all sizing, common knowledge in the home world. Purple genetic material is already leaking from his slit, a sign he is not going to be able to hold back soon.

His bulge makes its way towards the warmest part of you and starts to crawl its way in. “You’re mine,” he whispers repeatedly in your ear as he begins to sink into your small body inch by inch.

“Ah, Gamzee! Wait, wait!” You yelp in pain. He doesn’t stop his bulge from taking more of you, the whiteout pleasure overtaking him. “Too much, too thick…” tears well up along the edge of your vision. You pelvis clenches and it has your muscles squeezing around him tighter. He pauses when he bottoms out and watches your red tears streaming down. “You’re perfect. Your tears. Your tight, wet nook. Your body was made for this, to be my little, lowblood whore.”

He moves to pull himself out of you and your nook has a light suction that immediately has him thrusting back in. He releases a throaty moan and you scream at the sudden re-invasion. His hands hold your hips down, keeping you from crawling away. He starts a punishing pace that his the couch squeaking against the wood floor and bumping violently against the wall. “Gonna fuck you every day, Karkitty, can’t believe I’ve been denying myself the ever holy pleasure.”

One of his hands goes between your legs to palm your own bulge. With the entire trauma your body’s been through today, your bulge absorbs all the positive touches lavished upon it. You bite your hand to keep from screaming again but Gamzee rips it away. You end up screaming into his mouth as your orgasm wracks through your entire body.

“Fuck, your tight nook is milking my bulge. Get ready to have my wigglers.” The hand that was palming your bulge is now pushing your thigh further up for deeper access. You feel his bulge forcing your nook to expand from his brutalizing pace.

“You’re not gonna pull out?” You ask, disbelief and humiliation painting your skin red. “No Gam- you can’t-”

“Gonna use you as my motherfucking bucket. Wanna see my purple leak out of your swollen nook.” His hips slam against yours as he approaches release, his bulge pushing further and further up your nook. “Yeah you’re gonna motherfucking take it, Karkitty, gonna have it leaking out of you for days and days. Never going to have this nook empty again. Not after I’ve had this little piece of righteous heaven.” And there’s nothing you can do as he dominates you, besides stare helplessly up at him as he releases his globs of genetic material into you.

He comes hard, growling feral and biting into your soft shoulder. You feel the explosion of hot wetness fill your nook and you sob with humiliation. He would never let you go now.

He keeps his bulge buried in you until he’s completely drained. “Take it out,” you whisper. It would sound like a demand if you weren’t weeping openly. Your soft belly feels so full, it almost hurts to breathe. “Please, Gam.”

After a moment he lets his bulge slip free. The friction burns your well-fucked nook and he eyes his purple cum gushing out of your puffy hole. “Mother fuck, seeing it all leak out of you and such makes me want to fill you right back up again.”

You cry harder. “Please, rest,” bursts from your hiccuping mouth, a plea for mercy that Gamzee, thankfully, seems to grant you for now.

He runs a hand through your dark hair and brings it to rub your belly. He gathers your colored genetic material and brings it to his sated eyes. “My miracle. My little, angry, red miracle. All mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'M TORN BETWEEN TWO FRAGILE LINES
> 
> BOY I thought Karkat was hard to embody but Gamzee is a whole other WORLD I feel like I have absolutely no translation in.  
Sorry this is absolutely filthy. This was really just an excuse to write about dark gamkar and practice dirty talk xD  
Also, this is my first time in this POV and tense so I apologize for any mistakes.


End file.
